Ihra had wandered quite far in the opposite direction from him. He charged through the Seraphs' makeshift camp, where they'd managed to get a small fire reignited and back into the darkness on the other side. It was hard to see anything in the deep night, but when she heard the sound of his footsteps approaching, she cried out again, and he followed the sound of her voice until he could see her shadow looming in the night.

“Did you find them?” he called out.

“Can you give me some light,” she replied. “I tried to start a fire with some of this grass, but everything’s utterly soaked.”

He obligingly let the flames roll along his hand and lifted it up, illuminating a small area around him. Ihra was crouched low over a body that lay face-first in the dirt. The body was large and well-built, clearly that of a man, but a veritable lake of blood had formed around him. Jasper couldn’t see the man’s face, but he recognized the rough, green surcoat immediately. That’s Nēs̆u. But then… his mind stuttered to a halt as he realized he’d misunderstood the gallû’s message - or at least in part.

“Can you please help?” Ihra asked, with more than a touch of exasperation in her tone. Snapping out of his reverie, he crouched down beside her.

“Is he still alive? That's a hell of a lot of blood.”

“Somehow, barely,” she confirmed. “There was so much blood I thought he was dead for sure when I found him, but he still had a faint heartbeat.” Ihra jerked her head over her shoulder. “Can you get my supplies out of my bag? I managed to stem the worst of his bleeding with some pressure, but if I move, I’m afraid he’ll lose what little blood he has left.”

Jasper unfastened the bag from her back and, following her directions, quickly tossed a small mountain of supplies onto the ground. The bandages came first. Ihra kept up the pressure as Jasper carefully wound layer upon layer of gauze around the wound on Nēs̆u’s neck. Only when the blood had stopped soaking through the layers was Ihra finally able to let go. A healing potion followed, but despite their best efforts to pour it down his throat, the potion did little to ease his suffering.

“I was afraid of that,” Ihra observed with a sigh. “He doesn’t have enough energy left for the potion to draw on. Help me set up the circle, won’t you?”

Together, Jasper and Ihra struggled to mark out the necessary runes in the mud and ash that surrounded them. When they were done, it was by far the worst circle they’d ever made, a sloppy mess of mud, powder, and chalk that Jasper feared wouldn’t even work, but it was the best they could do. Ihra anchored herself to the circle and, closing her eyes, reached out to the mysterious force that powered the runes.

The runes stayed dark. A minute ticked by, then two, and Jasper was about to give up hope when a subtle glow flared to life. It wound its way out from her body, across and through the roughly sketched runes, and flowed into the wounded warrior.

Slowly, the dozens of small wounds that crisscrossed the Sicyan’s body began to seal up, but the man did not stir. Ihra didn’t give up; keeping her eyes closed, she continued to meditate, channeling the power through the runes until with a low groan, Nēs̆u’s body shuddered.

“What- What-” The warrior struggled to sit up and, still too weak to manage it, fell back on his elbows. His eyes were wild and afraid as his gaze bounced between their faces. “Tsia! Where’s Tsia?"

“She’s alright,” Jasper reassured him. “She was knocked unconscious, but she’ll be okay. Abnu’s watching over her.”

Like a puppet with its cords cut, all the tension in the man’s body eased out, and he flopped back to the ground.

He shot a worried glance at Ihra, but she just shook her head. “He’ll be fine - he’s just worn out.”

“Almost dying does that to you,” he agreed with a weary smile.

Ihra slowly staggered to her feet and glanced around the small space lit by Jasper’s flames. “Where’s Annatta? Did you not find her?”

Jasper shook his head reluctantly. He thought he had understood the gallû’s message, but finding Nēs̆u had made him doubt himself. If Nēs̆u wasn’t taken, then maybe Annatta wasn’t either? But then where the hell is she? The only answer that came to him was that Annatta had been taken and someone else - someone other than Nēs̆u - must have been the second. But who? S̆anukkat?

He replied hesitatingly. “We should look searching for her, but I think…I think she may have been taken.”

“Taken?” Ihra cocked her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Jasper grimaced. “You know that vision the Anzuzu gave me? I think Barbartu may have just taken it upon herself to make that a reality.”

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Jasper and Ihra remained by Nēs̆u’s side until the warrior had recovered enough strength to rise. His first question was again about Tsia. “She’s really alright,” the Sicyan asked as he struggled to rise. Jasper bent down, and grabbing him beneath his arms, dragged the man to his feet.

“She’s fine,” he reassured him once again. “She was just a little essence-deprived, that’s all.”

“If you’re lying-“ the warrior began harshly. Jasper rolled his eyes. He was tired of putting up with the warrior’s crap but reluctantly he sucked it up, for Tsia’s sake. Blessed are the peacemakers, blah, blah, blah.

Ihra, however, had had enough. “Why would we lie to you?” She snapped. “Your precious little princess is fine. And so are you, not that you’ve bothered to say thanks for the dozens of gold coins I spent saving your life.”

The man’s face twisted into an angry scowl, and he took a small step forward. “Why you-” His words trailed off as his foot sank into the marshy, blood-soaked ground he was standing on. He gazed at the pool of his own blood and the large, hastily etched runic circle strewn around him in silence for a long minute. When he looked up at Ihra, his anger had been replaced by shock. “Is all of that mine?”

She nodded curtly. “It’s a miracle you were still breathing when I found you.”

He carefully lifted his foot out of the bloody puddle and bowed deeply toward her. “It seems I do indeed owe you my thanks.” He glanced over to Jasper and bowed again. “To both of you, it seems. I doubt even potions could have saved me from that much blood loss.” Straightening up, he dragged a very blood-stained pouch out of his armor. “How much did the ritual ingredients cost?”

Greed briefly flickered in Ihra’s eyes, but she waved the proffered money away. “No one’s asking you to pay us back. You’re a party member - just act like one.”

With a shrug, Nēs̆u shoved the pouch back into his armor. “We all know I’m not really a member of your party. If I could convince Tsia to return to her senses but I am grateful nonetheless. Now where is Tsia?”

Then, supporting the man between them, the three limped back to the camp. Their trip was guided by the rosy glow of a fire that the Seraphs had somehow managed to get started despite the soaked conditions of everything around them. The light did little, however, to bring cheer to their position. Instead, the dancing flames revealed in full the extent of the damage that had been wreaked.

It was a sorry group that awaited them. Few of the Seraphs had escaped without wounds and a good half a dozen were stretched out on the ground, writhing and contorting with injuries too serious to just walk off. As they approached, Ihra darted off to help them, leaving Jasper and Nēs̆u alone to find Tsia.

To his surprise, she wasn’t sitting by the campfire.

“Where is she?” Nēs̆u growled, and Jasper could only shake his head. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s with Abnu?” It didn’t take long for them to find the man.

He was on the edge of the small camp’s perimeter, bent low to the ground over a row of Seraph corpses. At their hail, the Seraph turned to greet them. “I see you found one of your missing. Where’s the Djinn?”

“Gone, I fear,” Jasper replied curtly. “I’m afraid she was taken by the enemy.” He felt Nēs̆u’s impatience rising, but he decided to be polite and ask about the Seraph’s casualties before inquiring about Tsia. Abnu was standing over the corpses of his own men, after all. “How many did you lose?”

Abnu’s face was a mask of grief as he rose from the ground. “At least five are dead, and another two are missing. We’re still searching through the bodies, but…”

They both knew it was unlikely there were survivors. “Sorry about that,” Jasper offered.

“It’s not your fault,” the man grunted. “Somehow, those damned Is̆berūti took out both of my guards and killed a couple more in their sleep before the alarm was raised. Can’t figure it out honestly. Is̆berūti are a threat to farmers, but not warriors. Unless, of course, the guards fell asleep on their post.”

He spat on the ground with disgust. Jasper hesitated for a moment before replying. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to reveal what he knew about the attack, but he knew it was unlikely the guards had simply fallen asleep on the job - not when there was a far simpler explanation. The dead don’t deserve to have their name sullied like that.

“Well…we were attacked by more than just the Ish-whatever,” he fumbled with the unfamiliar name.

“Is̆berūti,” the man corrected.

“Yeah, those. There was also a gallû here; maybe something else, too - who knows? The gallû could have killed your guards pretty easily.”

“A gallû?” The Seraph’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and his voice incredulously. “A gallû? I thought those were something from a children’s storybook, or maybe, just maybe something monstrous you might encounter if you were stupid enough to go looking for one. You’re telling me you saw one last night? How do you even know what one looks like?”

“There may have been a gallû following me, off and on, for the last few weeks,” Jasper admitted.

The Seraph’s face darkened. “I take it back.”

“What?”

“I take it back,” he repeated firmly. “It sounds like this attack was your fault after all. If you’ve attracted the attention of such a being…” The Seraph glanced around almost nervously, as if he half-expected the being to manifest from the air beside him, “then perhaps none of us are safe around you.”

“But it’s never tried to hurt me,” Jasper protested. “Hell, if anything it saved my life once. I think it’s being controlled by Barbartu.”

Abnu furrowed his brow. “Barbartu? The same Barbartu who wrote to the Keeper? If a cultist was capable of controlling such a being, why wouldn’t they just kill you?”

“She doesn’t want to,” Jasper explained. “I’m still not quite sure why, but she claims to be sort of a friend.”

“The cultist.” The Seraph responded flatly, his skepticism plain to see. “The cultist claims to be a friend. The same cultists who tried to kill you.”

Jasper was beginning to feel annoyed. “Last I checked, your elders didn’t have any problem letting one of their own try to kill me, so I guess you’re in good company.” The man’s nostrils flared, but Jasper ignored. “But Kas̆dael believes she’s telling the truth, so I’ve been giving her the benefit of the doubt.”